Firefly

35: rehearsal dinner

Chapter 35: rehearsal dinner.

Justin

Katie has mastered the pretense smile and the formal act in the last two days. She has no reason to mess up the rehearsal dinner. My twenty-nine-year-old aunt is all set to get married. Finally. 

"The DJ is on board." Ace shoves the folded paper onto my chest. I give him an approving nod before pocketing the paper having the lyrics of our toast that we burned midnight candles to compose and make fit. 

They wanted us to make a toast? Hell, we're doing it our way. Ace knocks on the already opened door, gathering the attention of the two perfectly masked women. He signals that it's time to head downstairs and they scurry their way out of the suite. 

Katie is dressed for the part. White body con dress, high neck detailed with lace and flared sleeves with minimum jewelry. She's assured of the spotlight. My attention however is anchored on the dark rose gold high-low lace dress with off-shoulder sleeves that expose her cream and glowing skin. Her hair is secured into a messy french braid that I'm tempted to unknot. 

I should be attending to my date but I hadn't seen her properly since the time Katie hijacked her. And now that I'm seeing her, all I want to do is hug her. 

Ace holds his hand out to her and she takes it, courteously smiling. 

I'm not a fan of this arrangement. To be honest, I'm two strikes away from breaking my brother's nose. But only because she asked me to trust her and give this process a little time and genuine effort, I'm silently controlling every fucking vein pounding in my body.

Steven pats my back before he guides Katie to the dining hall and we follow. I lock the door of the suite, double-checking it because that's the only excuse I used to get here. I've become pathetic. 

The dining hall is a preview of how enormous my grandfather's bank account is. Rich people love showing off. And with the number of people gathered here for a basic rehearsal dinner, I'd have to say people do fly across the world for one stupid upscale meal. 

I stop on her other side with my hands in my pocket. "Boho it is," Ace says straightening his vest. 

"Your family really knows how to throw one hell of a party." Elena sighs, just taking in the view of the scenic ahead of us. We're used to this. Expensive should be the name of the theme, not bohemian. 

I'm snapped out of my lazy scanning of the hall when a tray of champagne glasses crashes on the floor and crack into pieces. Oh-oh. The waiter looks petrified. I follow his gaze to see who he bumped into and I forget how to breathe. Oh, dear god.

Slicked back white hair and white trimmed boxed beard that exposes pursed lips. His eyes direct power and accuse at the waiter. His brown plaid suit matches with his dark ebony walking stick that he doesn't really need, just like his hearing aid. My grandfather loves to fool his audience. Harlan Raine turns eighty this year but he sure as hell doesn't look it. 

He pulls out his pocket square and brushes unseen champagne off his shoulder, keeping his eyes sternly at the trembling waiter. "Name?" He demands. Aunt Charlotte tries to distract him but my grandfather holds out a finger to stop her. "Name." His voice is louder. A chill passes down my spine. 

The waiter looks like he's either going to pee or cry. "W-Will P-Parker--I'm s-sorry--"

"No one trained you to walk with your eyes on alert, Mr. Parker?" Harlan Raine gathers an audience and I close my eyes. "Were you lost in thought? Would it kill you to do your job properly?" I hear the girl beside me hiss. "Clean this up. Not a speck of champagne. Not a piece of glass. If I spot either, you're fired."